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Actors All
by
Vanringham now took the boy’s hand very genially. “You have somewhat the look of your sister,” he observed, after a prolonged appraisal; “though, in nature, ’tis not expected of us trousered folk to be so beautiful. And by your leave, you’ll not quit us thus unceremoniously, Master Osric. I am by way of being a friend of your brother’s, and ’tis more than possible that he may during the evening honor us with his presence. Will you not linger awhile on the off-chance?” And Osric Allonby admitted he had no other engagements.
He was in due form made known to the three gentlemen–Colonel Denstroude, [Footnote: He and Vanringham had just been reconciled by Molly Yates’ elopement with Tom Stoach, the Colonel’s footman. Garendon has a curious anecdote concerning this lady, apropos of his notorious duel with Denstroude, in ’61.] Mr. Babington-Herle, and Sir Gresley Carne–who sat over a bowl of punch. Sir Gresley was then permitted to conclude the narrative which Mr. Allonby’s entrance had interrupted: the evening previous, being a little tipsy, Sir Gresley had strolled about Tunbridge in search of recreation and, with perhaps excessive playfulness, had slapped a passer-by, broken the fellow’s nose, and gouged both thumbs into the rascal’s eyes. The young baronet conceded the introduction of these London pastimes into the rural quiet of Tunbridge to have been an error in taste, especially as the man proved upon inquiry to be a respectable haberdasher and the sole dependence of four children; and having thus unfortunately blinded the little tradesman, Sir Gresley wished to ask of the assembled company what in their opinion was a reasonable reparation. “For I sincerely regret the entire affair,” Sir Gresley concluded, “and am desirous to follow a course approvable by all men of honor.”
“Heyho!” said Mr. Vanringham, “I’m afraid the rape of both eyes was a trifle extreme; for by ordinary a haberdasher is neither a potato nor an Argus, and, remembering that, even the high frivolity of brandy-and-water should have respected his limitations.”
The hands of Mr. Allonby had screened his face during the recital, “Oh, the poor man!” he said, “I cannot bear–” And then, with swift alteration, he tossed back his head, and laughed. “Are we gentlemen to be denied all amusement? Sir Gresley acted quite within his privilege, and in terming him severe you have lied, Mr. Vanringham. I repeat, sir, you have lied!”
Vanringham was on his feet within the instant, but Colonel Denstroude, who sat beside him, laid a heavy hand upon Vanringham’s arm. “‘Oons, man,” says the Colonel, “infanticide is a crime.”
The actor shrugged his shoulders, “Doubtless you are in the right, Mr. Allonby,” he said; “though, as you were of course going on to remark, you express yourself somewhat obscurely. Your meaning, I take it, is that I mayn’t criticise the doings, of my guests? I stand corrected, and concede Sir Gresley acted with commendable moderation, and that Cambridge is, beyond question, the paramount expositor of morals and manners.”
The lad stared about him: with a bewildered face. “La, will he not fight me now?” he demanded of Colonel Denstroude,–“now, after I have called him a liar?”
“My dear,” the Colonel retorted, “he may possibly deprive you of your nursing-bottle, or he may even birch you, but he will most assuredly not fight you, so long as I have any say in the affair. I’ cod, we are all friends here, I hope. D’ye think Mr. Vanringham has so often enacted Richard III. that to strangle infants is habitual with him? Fight you, indeed! ‘Sdeath and devils!” roared the Colonel, “I will cut the throat of any man who dares to speak of fighting in this amicable company! Gi’me some more punch,” said the Colonel.
And thereupon in silence Mr. Allonby resumed his seat.
Now, to relieve the somewhat awkward tension, Mr. Vanringham cried: “So being neighborly again, let us think no more of the recent difference in opinion. Pay your damned haberdasher what you like, Gresley; or, rather, let Osric here fix the remuneration. I confess to all and sundry,” he added, with a smile, “that I daren’t say another word in the matter. Frankly, I’m afraid of this youngster. He breathes fire like Ætna.”